


The Cook Out

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: First Time, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2019-02-02 11:53:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12726144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Jack. Daniel. Barbeque. Heat. Daniel has a secret, and more than the coals are stoked at this SGC cook out!





	The Cook Out

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Many, many thanks to Pepe for her guidance, help, encouragement and willingness to post this on her  
>  site, to Mitch for information and insight, and to Sandi, where ever she is, for the idea. My obsession is  
> again in evidence in this piece, so, reader, beware!

“Great cook-out, Sir,” Samantha Carter bubbles, as she lists slightly out my front door. She proceeds to   
give me an air kiss, missing my cheek entirely. Wow. Attempted voluntary intimate contact. The Major’s   
plastered.

Great SIC, Carter is, but she can’t hold her liquor any better than a certain archaeologist I know. It   
doesn’t stop her from bending her elbow at festive occasions. Just glad I’m not the one having to pour   
her into her car and, later, wrestle her into her house. I’m saving that honor for a better man than I.

Speaking of better men...

“Oops, sorry T,” Carter giggles. “Guess it was that last margarita that did it.” She smiles brightly, if   
somewhat blurrily, up into the face of the tall man who is literally holding her upright.

“Indeed, SamanthaCarter. It could not have been the nine which preceded that last one,” Teal’c says. “I   
will see that you arrive home safely. Good night, O’Neill.”

He does that little Jaffa bow thing towards me, all so dignified, but I catch a glint in his eye and just the   
slightest hint of an upturned lip. To others, he looks perfectly solemn, but I know he’s laughing his ass   
off.

I suppress a laugh. Teal’c is well on his way to mastering the art of sarcasm. Just add that to the list of skills he has perfected since joining our intrepid band of brothers, which includes a voracious appetite   
for tabloids, reality TV, western clothing and jello wrestling.

“Such fun, Colonel, we had SUCH fun!”

Another victim. I look down into the brightly shining eyes of the inimitable Janet Fraiser, that pint-sized   
Energizer Bunny. She’s fared no better in the margarita department than Carter, and is having to be helped out both Hammond and Cassie.

“I left my car at her house, Jack. I’ll drive her home,” Hammond promises.

“Thanks, Uncle Jack. I had a great time. Mom did, too, but she probably won’t remember.” Cassie plants a kiss on my cheek. Smart girl. They grow ‘em that way in Toronto.

“Thanks for coming, Cass, General,” I give her a tight, one-armed hug, and open the door for Hammond and Janet with the other. “I’ll tell Teal’c to go easy on the Tequila the next time. He’s been wanting to bartend for months.”

“He had some interesting drink combinations, that’s for sure,” Ferretti mutters cheerfully, following Fraiser out. Good man, Lou. Known him for years. “Banana daiquiris I can handle. Banana martinis -- I’m not so sure. Thanks for having us, Jack. My house next time.”

“If the General doesn’t pull rank, you’ve got it, Lou,” I say, clasping him on the shoulder. “Glad you could come.” And I mean it. We haven’t had a get-together this relaxed in months.

As I watch Lou walk out to his car, muted by the soft glow of the street lights, I think it HAS been a great   
cook-out.

No special reason for it. Just a beautiful Saturday afternoon with good friends getting together to let off   
steam and celebrate life. No major injuries, no memorials, no need to raise glasses to recently fallen   
comrades, no reason to drink ourselves into oblivion.

Just lots of good food, alcohol and companionship. All of the enlisted personnel I invited had left earlier in the evening. These folks are the last group, the real hard-core partiers, the folks I count as family.

I look up at the clock. It reads nearly midnight; the cook-out started at noon. I sag against the door frame, moving my shoulders to work sore muscles. I’m tired, sunburnt and smell like woodsmoke and beer. I peer down at my once-white t-shirt. Big splotches of barbeque sauce and charcoal residue paint strange patterns down the front of it and my faded jeans. I shed my tennis shoes hours ago and have a small grill burn on my right index finger which stings like a sonofabitch.

Yep, all in all, one helluva party. Only one thing would make this day better...

I hear the back patio door open and the sounds of cans being emptied into the recycling bin.

“Really nice party, Jack,” comes a soft voice from the kitchen. “The food was great and Teal’c didn’t poison anyone -- at least I don’t think he did. Sam and Janet will recover. Dave Siler may never be the same, though. I never would have thought of combining triple sec with clam juice.”

I close and lock the front door, then amble to the kitchen -- drinking in the view.

Daniel is squatting by the open refrigerator, putting foil-wrapped ribs on the back bottom shelf. I know my knees couldn’t take that position, but, my God, the man makes it look effortless. He came to the cook-out in a white t-shirt, short sleeved cotton shirt and, much to the amazement, and delight, of all of the ladies there, cut-offs and sandals. I guess some time in the afternoon the t-shirt came off, because now he’s dressed in that thin red and white striped cotton shirt, the top three buttons undone and those short sleeves hugging some major bicep muscles. The position he’s in makes those worn cut-off jean shorts ride up his strong, tanned thighs. His hair’s windblown and tousled, the sun has dabbled   
spots of color on his cheeks and I’m having a major meltdown here, thinking he looks much too edible for one human being.

I shake my head, unable or unwilling to look away. I probably shouldn’t be having these thoughts for a member of my team, no matter how close we are as friends. But, what the hell -- blame the heat, Teal’c’s drinks, or the fact I’ve been finding Daniel damnably attractive for far too long. Problem is, I’m not quite sure how, or if, I should act on these feelings.

Hey, I am, for all intents and purposes, straight.

Never wanted to jump another man’s bones. Sex with men has never figured large in my dreams -- waking or asleep. There was a time in my Special Ops days when I was a prisoner in an Iraqi jail and some pretty ugly things happened which merely reinforced my heterosexuality. Actually, I find the thought of sex with a man, well, pretty unthinkable -- until Daniel.

I mean, I know my way around a guy. Where tab A fits into slot B. I learned it the hard way, pardon the pun. I’ve just not been interested. Not even initially, when this clueless, guileless, far-too-optimistic archaeologist came into my life. But lately, my thinking’s changed.

As far as Daniel’s preferences, I don’t have a honkin’ clue. Hey, I know -- I think everybody knows -- that   
he was madly, passionately, hopelessly in love with Sha’uri. That Daniel also seems to be the boy toy of   
choice for most of the aliens in the universe is common knowledge, too. As our wunderkind of first contacts, Mr. Meet-n-Greet, we know he’s open to new experiences. A switch hitter? I have no idea.

All I know is that my pants seem to shrink two sizes whenever I look at him. Watching him lick that lush   
bottom lip, peer through those thick eyelashes over the tops of his glasses, or give those breathy moans   
of pleasure whenever he sips a really great cup of coffee -- well, hell, I’m only human. The man is driving me insane.

And now, here we are. Just the two of us. Alone.

And I haven’t got a friggin’ clue how to go about seducing the man I’ve seduced a hundred thousand times in my dreams.

I need to act casual. Just casual. Natural. Normal. I need to assess the situation. Go with the flow. Get   
closer. See where it takes me.

That’s my rational side speaking. My instincts are screaming: ‘Fuck casual! Throw the man down on the   
ground and fuck him senseless!’

I groan.

“Okay, Jack?” Daniel asks, peering up at me through those wonderful, marvelous, damning eyelashes. Somewhere along the line he’s shed his glasses, so it’s just those big blue eyes boring into mine. “You get too much sun? You do look red.”

Christ! Sun has nothing to do with what I’m feeling. I just wish he’d quit looking at me like that. He has NO idea what that does to me.

“Yeah. Maybe,” I say. “Leave that for tomorrow, Daniel. Most of the perishables have been put away. It’s too late to clean up. I’ll handle it tomorrow.” When I’m sober. When he’s not squatting there looking like sex on a stick.

Daniel rises, one easy, effortless movement that I couldn’t have accomplished even drunker than I already am. He places a hand on my shoulder. I feel the heat of his touch all the way to my groin.

“Wow, you’re hot!” he gasps. “You sure you didn’t get too much sun? Overdo it a bit? That last mission wasn’t easy on any of us. You DID get that knock on the head. I’m sorry, Jack, I shouldn’t have let you do all the work today. We were outside in the sun most of the afternoon.” Daniel follows up his statement by gently kneading my shoulder.

Red Alert!

“Knock it off, Daniel,” I shrug my way out of his grasp, my voice much gruffer than I intended. That friendly gesture is causing much too much of a reaction down south. “My knock on the head wasn’t that bad. If I recall, you were hurt worst of all. Janet said those muscle strains you got will take some time to   
heal. You shouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting.”

God. What a lame thing to say.

Daniel’s expression turns to one of hurt resignation. “Sorry, Jack. Just showing concern.”

“Well, cut it out,” I growl. “And quit looking like someone just kicked your puppy!” I grab him by both   
shoulders, meaning to shake some sense into him.

Instead our gazes lock. His hurt blue eyes meet mine. Seconds tick by.

Daniel peers intently into my eyes. Then he slowly licks those lips. “You keep looking at me like that, Jack, and I’ll be forced to kiss you.”

“Not if I kiss you first,” I say, growling again, low in my throat, and I swoop in, latching on to Daniel’s lips   
like a man dying of thirst.

I feel as if the sun has suddenly gone nova. Daniel’s lips are strong, but soft, and I devour them.

It’s forbidden. It’s electric. It’s wrong. It’s, oh, so right.

Daniel opens to me, and I probe that delectable mouth with my tongue. Daniel tastes of barbeque, cheap red wine and coffee, with an underlying hint of something else I can’t quite put my finger on.

The kiss seems to go on forever. I’m drowning in sensations. Daniel reaches up and grasps my head in   
his hands, fingers digging into the back of my scalp. I reach down and grab him by his wonderfully tight ass, pulling him in closer. Our groins clash, our hardening cocks press together. It’s obvious Daniel’s aroused. Impressively so.

Daniel moves my head, attacking my lips from another direction. Whoa. When did I lose control of this   
seduction? Daniel presses against me frantically, greedily. I find myself wedged firmly against the pantry,   
doorknob digging into the small of my back.

“God, Jack, oh, God,” Daniel moans, breaking the kiss and beginning to nibble at the juncture of my neck and shoulder. Small bites that are slightly painful and enormously arousing.

Barely suppressing a shiver, I try to regain the upper hand. I reluctantly lose my hold on that wonderful ass, and grasp his shoulders, forcing those hot lips away from my neck. “Hey, Daniel -- Daniel,” I say, panting for breath. “Easy. Easy.”

The eyes that meet mine are almost black, just a sliver of blue iris showing.

“Jack? Wha -- what’s wrong?” That slight stutter clouds his voice and that familiar furrow appears in the center of his forehead. I know the look well. It appears whenever Daniel thinks he has something to feel guilty about.

“Nothing, Daniel, everything’s very right,” I say with a smile, enveloping him in a hug that screams ‘friend’ and ‘potential lover’ in the same breath, and then release him. “You just surprised me, is all. I wasn’t sure how you’d react. Sorta planned this, y’know.” I smile again at his amazed look. “Meant to get you alone tonight. I just didn’t realize the gang would hang around so long.”

I grasp him gently by the shoulders and look into his eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay with this, Daniel?”

Daniel’s eyes light up, and there is such beauty there that my breath catches in my throat.

“What do YOU think, Jack?” he says, flashing a mischievous smile.

“Sweet,” I breathe, smiling back. I feel the doorknob jab again. Time to move this party elsewhere -- someplace more comfortable is preferable.

Taking Daniel by the hand, I snap off the kitchen lights and lead him to the couch in the den.

The room is doing everything it can to help in this seduction scenario. Moonlight pours in through the large picture windows, bathing the room in a great blue glow. One lone light is on low in the corner by my entertainment system. Daniel sits; I light a few candles and put on some soft mood music. Then I take my place beside him on the couch.

The seconds tick by. We just sit here.

Shit.

I reach for Daniel; Daniel reaches for me -- and we crack heads together.

Helluva ice-breaker, but it works. We both say “ow!” at the same time, then fall about laughing.

“Oh, Jack,” Daniel says, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’m so sorry. Let me kiss it and make it better.”

Then he grasps my face in his hands and places a tender kiss on my forehead. Then my nose. Then both my eyelids. Then my chin. Finally his lips settle on to mine.

The man is a damn fine kisser.

We lean back into the couch cushions and he lets go of my face as we explore one another’s mouths. Lips part, tongues search; we spend several minutes learning one another’s taste. For one split second I wish I’d brushed my teeth, but Daniel’s not complaining.

After what seems an eternity, we break apart, panting for breath, chests heaving. Daniel’s -- well -- swear to God he’s ‘glowing’.

“Wow, Jack. Who would have thought you were such a great kisser?” he says, licking those lush, slightly swollen lips.

“Hundreds, actually,” I say. “Maybe even millions. Part of my resume’. Right after my rank and serial number. Jack O’Neill, great kisser. Got referenc...smmff...”

Daniel swoops back down, murmuring, “Shut up, Jack,” and kisses me senseless again.

I’ve got a hard-on that won’t quit, and we haven’t even gotten to the really good stuff yet. Although it’s ALL good with Daniel.

“Why don’t we move this into the bedroom?” he says, actually somewhat shyly, rising from the couch in one easy, fluid movement and extending his hand to pull me upright.

Whoa. Time to slow this freight train down.

I grab both his hands in mine, turning him to face me.

“Are you sure about this, Daniel? I mean, absolutely sure?” I feel I’m babbling here, now, but it’s   
important that some things are out in the open. I’m well aware of what this could do to the team dynamics, for one. And, let’s face it, the military doesn’t really have a benevolent policy towards same-sex relationships. We’re talking possible courts-martial here, or at the very least dishonorable discharge. For me, that is. For Daniel, the repercussions could be even greater. Some less open-minded members of the military don’t take too kindly to outsiders corrupting their own, even if the corruption is mutual. I’ve seen far too many gay bashing incidents that literally turned my stomach. If something like that were to happen to Daniel, I couldn’t live with myself.

Plus, I don’t do casual. First of all, I don’t do men. Think I said that all ready. I know what goes on behind   
closed doors here, but, truth is, I’m scared shitless. But, with Daniel, I want the whole enchilada. And that includes intimacy and commitment.

Does he have experience? Hell if I know. Hasn’t been fighting me off, but still, I need to know what this   
means to him.

So I ask again if he’s sure.

His answer is to place my hand over his ever-thickening cock. Whoa! Guess that answers that.

“I don’t know about you,” he says, “but my shorts are beginning to feel tight. Bedroom okay with you?”

So -- a man with experience, perhaps? Sweet. That will make my job that much easier. His next statement blows THAT theory all to hell. “I’m glad my first time is going to be with you, Jack.”

I know my face pales. “You mean you’ve never done this before, Daniel?” I ask, my voice unrecognizably squeaky.

His blue eyes widen. “Er -- um -- no, I, ah, I just assumed you -- being older and all -- that is -- well --   
shit.”

I probably shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I laugh. Out loud. A lot.

At first, his eyes narrow. Oh, I so don’t like that look. That look usually signals the onset of ‘pissy Daniel’.   
But then, it softens and he grins. “What’s so funny?”

“Us, Daniel, us,” I splutter. “Hey,” I take his hand, pulling him along. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

My bedroom is bathed in darkness, the only light coming from the moonlight streaming though the windows.

“Lights on or off?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t mind a little light,” Daniel says. So I turn on a lamp on a corner table. Perfect. Bright enough   
so we can distinguish features, but not so much that every wrinkle in my face will show.

I pull my t-shirt off over my head, tossing it in a heap on the floor. Daniel toes off his sandals. His hands go for the buttons on his shirt.

“No, let me, please?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound too needy.

His hands drop to his sides.

Shit! I’m as nervous as a kid on his first real date. Slowly I reach for his shirt. His hands come up and he   
lightly strokes the hair on my chest with his long, elegant fingers. “Wow,” he breathes. “Very nice.”

I grin, inordinately pleased, and knock his hands out of the way. “No distractions, please. Concentrating here.”

I start at the bottom button. The shirt’s untucked, so my fingers ghost over a firm, flat stomach. Daniel   
gasps, drawing in a deep breath, which, of course, expands that marvelous chest even more. Three -- two -- one -- and then the shirt’s undone and hanging open.

I push it off his shoulders and revel in the sight. Those broad tanned shoulders, tight biceps, deep chest, the hint of gold glinting off the left nipple -- what?

“Daniel!” I squeak, pointing at the speck of glittering metal. “What the hell is that?”

“What?” he asks, not really with the program here. He glances down at himself, as if seeing his chest for the first time. “Oh, that. It’s a nipple ring.” He looks back at me, a slight frown marring his features. “Is   
this a problem?”

“No -- er -- no,” I stammer. Damn. Trying to be cool here. Failing. So I try for the indirect approach. “Didn’t know you had one, that’s all. Had it long?” I hope my voice sounds unaffected, asking like you’d ask how long you’d had a new haircut.

“Since Abydos,” he replies. “Sort of a ritual there.”

“Nipple rings?” I ask, raising one eyebrow. “Really?”

“Well, it was that or a cock ring.”

If I’d been drinking anything, it would have been spewed all over the room by now. “Oh? Please, tell me more.”

“Shit, Jack, way to kill a mood here,” Daniel grouses. He starts to reach for his shirt. I stay his hand. “I’m   
not trying to kill any mood,” I say softly, as I reach over to lightly touch the ring. As my fingers make   
contact with the little nub and its gold circlet, I can feel the nipple harden under my touch and a full   
body shiver courses through Daniel.

“Wow,” I say, my eyes meeting his. “Pretty powerful.”

“Yeah,” he says simply, eyes never leaving mine.

Christ! This is SUCH a turn-on.

“So,” I ask, trying to keep my voice even, as I finger the small ring once more, “how have you managed to keep this a secret for so long?”

Daniel’s shivers continue. I can tell he’s having a difficult time concentrating on my words. He takes my   
hand and pulls it away from his nipple.

“If you want to know, Jack, I’ll tell you,” he says. “But not while you’re doing that.”

“Why not?” It’s an innocent question.

“Because I’ll come in these shorts if you keep it up.”

Whoa! My cock jumps at those words, but I really do want to know more about this. “Okay,” I say softly.   
“Tell me. I won’t touch it. But,” I add with a leer, “keep the shirt off. Not touching doesn’t mean I can’t   
look.”

“Can we sit?” he asks.

“Sure.” I pull him over to the bed. I stretch out on my right side, right hand cupping my head. Daniel sits   
Indian-style in front of me.

“First of all, it’s not a secret. Janet knows...,”

“She does?” Damn. All these years. Not a word. Guess I’m not as irresistible to the nursing staff as I   
thought.

“Yes. You know we all go through pretty thorough physicals.” He grins. “She suggested I not wear it on   
base or on missions. Body piercings can be misinterpreted, you know. So, I don’t.”

“Any one else on base know you have this?” I ask. Suddenly it seems very important to me that I not be   
the last one to know about this.

“Just Teal’c,” he says.

“Teal’c?” I exclaim. Great. Half my team has been keeping this from me for the past five years now. What’s next? Whoa -- if Teal’c knows, does this mean...?

“You mean to tell me Teal’c’s got, er, body piercings?”

Daniel laughs. “No, not exactly. Well, he has had his ears pierced, but doesn’t wear the jewelry any   
longer. Says he gave it up when he realized Apophis was a false god. Says those things are the trappings of slavery. He feels his tattoo is enough of a brand.”

Yeah, I can understand that. Once overheard a conversation about how that mark was made. Cut right   
into the bone. I shudder at how painful that must have been.

“So,” I gesture at the ring. “Go on...”

“Oh, yeah. Well, when you all left me on Abydos after that first mission, you remember I told you we had quite a celebration.”

“Yeah,” I grin. “Must have been one helluva party.”

“It was. And full-blown parties like that result in, er, some nudity. The Abydonians have no hang-ups about going nude in public. They just don’t do it in the heat of the day. And it’s only the men. Women don’t get naked. So, we were sitting around eating and drinking in front of this huge bonfire, and the next thing I know, Skaara’s shed his britches along with about half the other boys who helped us. And he’s got this cock ring. Most of the other boys had cock rings, too. In fact, most of the men were naked that night.”

I try to banish the picture of Skaara dancing around naked. I love the boy, but have no desire to see him   
nude. And don’t even get me started on seeing Kasuf in the altogether. I’m intrigued, though.

“Did you ask why? Why they were pierced? Is it a, uh, sexual thing?” Hey, I may not know much, but I   
have visited some web sites. Heard some talk.

Daniel shifts a little, and the light catches on the ring, turning his nipple to gold. “No, not sexual. Seems   
that was a way Ra had of marking the Abydonian people as his property. As you know, Skaara and his people are of Egyptian origin, most likely descendants of one of the tribes of Israel. The Jewish faith forbids piercings and tattoos. Other Egyptian slaves were Muslim, who follow the teaching of a Jewish prophet. Muslims also forbid those practices. Ra instigated this as a sign that the slaves were not allowed to practice their old religion, and had to worship him as their god instead. Men were pierced; women bore tattoos. Sha’uri had one on the inside of her right wrist.”

“But we -- you -- freed them from Ra,” I say. “How did you end up with a nipple ring?”

“Well, they didn’t start off as a sexual item,” Daniel explains. “But it seems that these rings do generate   
some feelings sexually. The boys went on and on about how their penis rings brought sexual pleasure to their partners and were a constant source of stimulation to them. So, as I became closer to the Abydonians they wanted me to -- um -- enjoy some of the sensations they felt.” Daniel’s blushing by now. It looks good on him. “After I taught them how to make moonshine and we’d shared several drunken evenings together, Skaara decided a piercing was just what I needed to be part of the tribe. Sha’uri forbade him to give me a cock ring, though. So that’s how I ended up with this.” He gestures at the ring. Like I needed him to remind me it’s there. I’ve been staring at it the entire time he’s been   
talking. When I’m not looking at his face, that is.

“Didn’t it hurt? How’d they do it?” Okay, so sue me. Morbid curiosity here.

“Actually, Jack, I have NO idea. I was so drunk I passed out. The next morning I woke with one monster hangover and this souvenir.”

He goes on. “Skaara caught hell from Sha’uri over it, as it took me a while to heal and kinda put a crimp in our extra curricular activities for a time. But she didn’t complain long.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“Well, it’s, um, very stimulating. It helped me perform -- more so than I’d done in the past, I guess.” He’s   
bright red, now. “Can we not talk about this any more?”

“No problem,” I grin. I’ve gotten most of the information I wanted. I want to test this stimulation thing he mentioned. “Let’s get back to what we were doing, okay?”

“Fine by me,” he says, and swoops in, capturing my lips again.

We end up face to face on the bed, kissing and caressing, our bodies pressed tightly against one another. I’ve gotta get out of these jeans; my cock feels like it will burst and I can feel Daniel’s hard-on pressing insistently against my thigh.

I reach between us and unzip his shorts. Daniel’s cock is straining against the confines of his briefs. I’ve   
always prided myself on the size of my equipment. Daniel’s definitely not lacking in that department, either.

“Lose the jeans, Jack,” he gasps. I pull my pants off and his shorts and soon we’re naked in the bed.

Daniel’s words continue to haunt me as we continue to kiss and caress each other. Stimulating? Help him perform? Gotta test this theory. The Daniel making out with me is pretty damned exciting. If this nipple ring turns him on even more, I’m in for the ride of my life.

“So,” I say, divesting myself from his mouth. My fingers reach for his nipple and that little gold ring. “You   
never tried this with any of the guys on Abydos?”

The nubbin hardens under my touch. I tug lightly at the ring and his eyes open wider. I can’t help it. My mouth replaces my fingers and I can feel -- everything. The little gold ring is cool and slick under my tongue, and it feels -- strange. Like sucking on a tiny, tiny ringed finger. I can’t resist laving the nipple and pulling both it and the ring deeper into my mouth.

Daniel starts moaning, deep in his throat. His head is thrown back; his hands clutch at my shoulders. I can feel him tremble, all over. He thrusts his chest at my mouth even as he pushes back with his hands. “N -- no. Had off--offers. Never, never w--wanted to.”

Christ, he’s practically incoherent. His cock, which was fairly hard when we started, swells impressively and presses forcefully against my thigh, leaking lightly.

“G-god, Jack, y-you keep this uh-up and I--ugh--I’m gonna...” His head tosses from side to side, eyes   
squeezed shut. I feel like the most desirable, the most powerful man in the world. I’ve got this incredibly sexy man in bed with me and I’ve reduced him to words of less than one syllable.

Besides, sucking on his nipple is really turning me on. It’s hard, and wet, and the combination of tumescent flesh and cool metal is a dynamite combination. My fingers toy with his right nipple, rolling it between my fingers and thumb.

I pinch the right nipple lightly and bite down gently on the left. Daniel’s eyes fly open, his body tenses, he gasps, “Jack!” and he comes in waves, semen shooting all over my groin and thigh.

Well, that’s all she wrote for me. I come, too, and we wind up, sticky and sated, both gasping for breath.

What seems like hours later, but I’m guessing is just minutes, we come to our senses. Daniel’s still trembling. He shakes his head and laughs, looking for all the world like a little boy just given a key to a candy shop.

“Wow,” he says. I could go blind from the light shining from his eyes. “Jack, that was -- well, I warned you. Wow.”

“Yeah, wow,” I echo, feeling extremely self-satisfied. “Pretty incredible. And you say you’ve never done this with anyone else?”

“Well,” he says, “Sha’uri and I got pretty hot and heavy, but she was never very aggressive. I think I can   
honestly say no one’s moved me quite like you, Jack.”

“That’s me,” I say smugly, “I’m a mover. Mover and a shaker.”

“Be right back,” Daniel says, eyes suddenly veiled.

My mouth says, “Huh?” but my body is too satisfied to budge. So I lie back against the pillows, eyes closed, not wanting to move. I hear Daniel moving around in the bathroom; the sound of water running. Then the lights shut off and I hear the tread of his footsteps coming back into the bedroom.

The bed dips; then a warm cloth descends on my flaccid cock as Daniel begins to gently cleanse away the evidence of our lovemaking. Nice. Sara did this occasionally when I had performed beyond her expectations.

However, Daniel certainly ISN’T Sara, and even with my eyes closed, I can tell the difference as those calloused long fingers gently handle my cock as he moves the washcloth across it.

“Mmmm,” I drawl, reaching over to stroke his shoulder. “Nice, Daniel. Are you available to perform these services on a regular basis?”

“That a request, Jack?” he asks, just the slightest bit of hesitancy in his voice.

I open my eyes. He’s back on his haunches by my side, washcloth poised in the air. I actually see the raw   
desire in his gaze and it shakes me. Of course Daniel doesn’t do casual. Maybe he’s wanted this as long   
as I have; he said something to that effect earlier.

“We’ll have to be careful, but, yes,” I nod solemnly, “I definitely want this to continue. If you do, too, that is,” I quickly add.

“You bet,” he says, and swoops in for another kiss.

I pull the cloth out of his hands and aim for the bathroom door. I think my shot falls short as I hear a wet squishing sound when the cloth lands somewhere on the carpet.

“Leave it, Daniel,” I order, as he attempts to leave the bed to retrieve it. “A little water never hurt anything. It will dry.”

I pull him down into an embrace, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. We’re almost chest to chest, and I reach between us and finger that nipple ring again. I feel a jolt, and Daniel’s cock begins to thicken against my thigh.

“My God, Daniel, so soon?” I ask, my words somewhat muffled from lip to lip contact.

“One of the reasons Sha’uri liked the ring,” he admits, somewhat embarrassed. “Quick recovery period.”

“Oh, yeah-h-h,” I breathe, and start kissing him again, fingering that little ring and the nipple, feeling it   
harden between my fingers.

I continue to caress him, running my hands down his sides and over that tight ass and those strong thighs. He’s practically on top of me, so I execute a quick move and he lands with an “oomph!” on his back on the bed.

He peers wide-eyed at me, and I can tell he’s so turned on he’s not really with the program. Probably one of the reasons I could pull that move off. I grin at him“Special Ops,” I say. “Still haven’t lost my touch.”

“That’s for sure,” he nods, and I’m not really sure if he’s referring to the move or something else. But the more I stimulate him, the more I’m stimulated and I feel things -- er -- expanding that probably have no right to expand this quickly at my age.

His cock grows and swells impressively as I continue my assault on his nipples. My nipples are somewhat sensitive, too, but I can’t imagine any stimulation having the same effect on me that it has on Daniel.

He’s moaning, deep in his throat, and writhing under my touch. His chest undulates under my hands and I practically have to pin him to the mattress as I suckle those tight little nubs. Both are now wet with my saliva, and the little ring gleams in the semi-darkness.

Another nibble, another tug on the ring, and he comes again.

I’m so hard I ache. I desperately want to make love to this gorgeous, wonderful, edible, complex man.

“Daniel,” I whisper, watching him slowly come down from his post-orgasmic high. “Let me make love to you. Can I? May I?”

Those blue eyes slowly open and focus on me. “I -- I’ve never done it with a man, Jack.”

“I know, love, I know,” I answer back. “We’ll take it slow. It will be great. You’ll see. Okay?”

“Okay, Jack,” he says, looking at me with eyes so full of trust it’s almost painful. “I do want this. I’m just a   
little -- nervous.”

“Me, too,” I admit. I ease off him for a moment and fish around in the drawer of the nightstand. I’ve got some lube there -- hey, I’ve become fairly friendly with my right hand over the years and a little wetness helps speed the process -- so, I place it near the pillow and start kissing Daniel softly.

“It would probably be easier on you if you turned over,” I say. I begin to move off him again, but he grabs my arm.

“No,” he says firmly. “I want to see you. I want to watch you as we make love. Can we do that?”

“Sure, love, sure,” I say, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under his hips. “Don’t worry, we’ll take it slow.”

“Not too slow, Jack,” he growls.

My cock throbs with his words. “No, not too slow,” I echo.

I don’t care how painful it is for me to wait. I’m not entering Daniel without a lot of preparation. My   
experiences in Iraq fly back and slap me in the face. The pain; being breeched with no preparation; that’s so NOT happening here.

I pop the lid off the lube and grease my finger generously.

“In a few minutes you’re going to feel my finger inside of you,” I tell him. “Just try to relax and don’t   
forget to breathe, okay?”

He nods and I start kissing him again -- deep, slow, wet kisses that go on forever. I help him cant his hips   
up slightly and pull his knees up and apart. I caress his abdomen and cock, which is pretty impressive even in its resting state. And, with one hand, I fondle his right nipple, rolling it between finger and thumb. Soon, he’s moaning and thrusting his tongue into my mouth.

I ease my finger into the tight ring of his anus, and he jerks a little.

“Okay?” I ask worriedly.

“Yeah, f-fine,” he breathes. “Just - different. I’m fine.”

I move that finger around inside him, making tiny thrusts until he mirrors my movements. I pull my finger out and he groans.

“Why did you stop?” he asks.

“Just step one, love,” I say, adding more lube to my index and middle finger. “Two fingers, now. Going to be a bit of an adjustment. Ready?”

He nods, so I slowly ease two fingers in. He clinches and jerks, so I continue my assault on his nipple. “Relax, love, relax. Breathe.”

We stay this way for a while. I move my fingers around inside and start suckling on his nipple. Soon he’s   
panting; fucking himself on my fingers and grabbing my head with his hands, forcing my mouth closer to his chest. He’s on fire and I’m close behind.

He barely notices my third finger slipping in. I’ve nibbled, suckled and laved his right nipple until it’s   
small, hot and wet. I remove my fingers and slick up my cock. I place it near the loosened ring of muscle and stop suckling.

“Ready, love?” I whisper. “A bit different than fingers, here. Just relax and breathe. If it’s too painful, I’ll   
stop. I couldn’t bear to hurt you.”

“Jack,” he pants through clenched teeth, “if you stop now, I’ll kill you.”

His cock is swollen and pulses between us. I ease myself in. I feel him jerk and he’s, oh shit, he’s so tight   
and hot! I don’t move for a few seconds, letting him adjust to the increased size. My cock feels like it’s   
encased in a fitted sheath of liquid velvet.

“Move, Jack,” he begs. “For God’s sake, move!”

I begin to move, slowly, minutely, and he begins to match my rhythm.

“More, Jack. Now. Please.”

It’s exquisite. I thrust deeper, faster, and it’s hot, and it’s perfect. His legs wrap around my back and I   
place both hands on either side of his head. I’m slamming him into the mattress and he’s grasping my shoulders and moaning and muttering -- it’s not English.

I’m close, so close and I reach down and lave his left nipple, tugging gently on that little gold circlet.

He comes. I come.

I sag down on top of him and he wraps his arms around my back. We lie there, panting, sated, unwilling to move.

“Wow,” he says softly, nuzzling my neck.

“Yeah,” I agree, sweat dripping off my nose and splashing on his cheek. “Did I hurt you?”

“A little, at first,” he admits, “but then, it was more like -- fullness. A wonderful fullness. Thanks, Jack. You were awesome.”

His praise makes me feel self-conscious, powerful and strangely humble. “No slouch yourself, there, Daniel,” I say.

“Let’s do it again.”

Ah, the joys of youth! “Not so fast, love,” I groan, grinning. “You may have a quick recovery time, but your colonel needs a little time to rest and recuperate. Besides, you might be a little sore. Probably not feeling it right now, but, “I add smugly, “you will.”

He yawns. It’s endearingly cute. “You’re probably right, ‘my colonel’,” he sighs. “Like the sound of that. How ‘bout a quick nap? We’ve got the rest of the weekend, right?”

“Right,” I murmur, kissing him softly. “How do you like your eggs?” I’m thinking that ‘nap’ may turn into ‘in the morning’.

“Don’t care,” he mumbles, turning in my arms to find a more comfortable position. “Just so long as there’s coffee. ‘Night, Jack.”

“ ‘Night, Danny,” I whisper, spooning in behind him. Rest of the weekend? Feels more like forever to me.   
Just the way I hoped.

End.


End file.
